


On The Fly (Septiplier)

by collaborational



Series: Of Flying and Fighting [3]
Category: Septiplier - Fandom, jacksepticeye, markiplier - Fandom, youtube - Fandom
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-07 05:12:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5444507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/collaborational/pseuds/collaborational
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark and Jack manage to get home after three days of pure Hell in a secret lab somewhere in Sacramento. What they failed to remember is that the owners of said lab are still alive. And they still have all the information on the duo that they could want. And they are very, VERY angry.</p><p>It's time to uproot and get moving.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It's Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark and Jack get a ride home.

Bob and Wade were surprisingly accepting of the whole situation. 

The two men had been more than willing to give Jack and Mark a ride home. According to their newfound acquaintances, the two had wound up in Sacramento. Mark was worried about the work he'd missed, Jack was just thankful they'd been so close to home. 

Unfortunately, they asked questions. A lot of them. Constantly. The roommates tried their best to ignore the acute interrogation, answering with as little as they could get away with. 

After a question about Mark’s wings while they were passing through somewhere called “Wheeler Ridge,” Mark finally snapped at Wade. Everyone, including him, had seemed rattled by the outburst, for which he apologized. But the car was much quieter after that. 

They’d just passed the sign reading “Los Angeles - 20 miles” when Bob finally spoke up after more than an hour of tense silence. 

“So, uh… where exactly do you want us to drop you?” 

“Oh, erm…” Mark mumbled. Los Angeles WAS a big and busy city. “I guess the nearest bus stop should work.” 

Bob and Wade exchanged a glance. “You sure? I mean… You did get pretty heated with all the questions we were asking. Are you prepared to get them from other people?” 

“He’s got a point, Mark,” Jack told him. Mark rolled his eyes. 

“Fine. You can drop me off at my workplace. We can definitely get home safely from there.” He provided the address, and Wade punched it into the GPS. 

Within the hour, they were winding down the streets of LA. 

“Recalculating,” the device chirped cheerfully. 

“Make up your damned mind!” Wade told it angrily. 

“When possible, make a legal u-turn.” 

“Fuck you.” 

Jack leaned forward. “Hey, Mark, I recognize this. We ain’t too far from that one library. Remember, th’ spaghetti?” 

Mark snickered. “How could I forget?” How simple noodles and sauce could cause such chaos, he would never know. The results of that day had gotten him and his roommate permanently banned from that particular library. 

“Alright, it’s safe to drop you here then?” 

They nodded. “Thanks for everything.” 

“It’s no trouble. We needed to visit San Diego for a meeting tomorrow anyways, there’s no harm in taking a short detour.” 

The car slowed to a stop at the curb, and Jack hopped out. He turned to help Mark out of the vehicle. His wings, which were still sticking out of the jumpsuit those insane scientists had provided him, proved it very difficult for Mark to free himself from the backseat. 

“Uh… You need some help with that?” 

“Can’t you just take them off or something? It’s just a cosplay or something, right?” 

Jack and Mark had disliked lying to their new friends about being stranded during some obscure con. They needed to get out of there before it bit them in the ass. 

“It’s more complicated than that,” Mark muttered quickly. 

With a final tug, Jack finally yanked him free. They both toppled to the sidewalk, foreheads crashing together. Language as colorful as the men’s hair ensued from the tangle of limbs and feathers. 

“Jesus, can it wait until you’re home?” Bob jeered from the driver's seat. 

“Get a room!” Wade added, laughing. 

The Irishman shoved Mark off him, flushing bright red. “Come on, man,” he mumbled, getting to his feet. The poor American was roughly yanked along as Jack grabbed his wrist and began leading him home. 

\--- 

Mark collapsed on the couch, groaning. “Everything hurts,” he complained. 

“I can’t blame ya!” Jack replied, checking the phone for messages. “We got dragged all th’ way ta fockin’ Sacramento, ya werk yer ass off fer those crazies fer three days straight, and I just pulled ya a mile and a half ta git home. Ya need ta take tomorrow off.” 

“No way!” he said, sitting up. Then he winced as his muscles burned in protest. “I’m fine, Jack. I’ve missed work for at least four days now. Maybe five. I need to get back on the job, or else I’ll be fired…” 

“How about instead, we git ta werk tryin’ ta find out wot th’ fock happened to ya?” His roommate raised his eyebrows. “Those people said they finished their tests on ya. They’ve obviously got info they’re gonna put to use, and probably not in a good way.” 

“Don’t remind me.” 

“This is a serious issue, Mark. What on Earth could they possibly be doin’ with all th’ data an’ shit they got from ya?” 

“Jack,” he moaned in protest, “I can’t even think straight right now.” 

The Irishman put his hands on his hips. “Look, I’m tired too. I get it. But this is a huge problem. We need ta address it NOW.” 

“Fiiiine.” He sat up straight again. “They did a bunch of diagnostics stuff on me, and then they recorded my performance during physical exams.” 

“Sounds like pretty extensive research. D’ya think they might be plannin’ on replicatin’ th’ results?” 

“I wouldn’t put it past those guys.” 

“This ain’t good,” Jack muttered. “Th’ last thing we need is an attack of bird-people.” 

“Birdemic two point oh,” Mark added. “This time, it’s personal.” 

“Stay focused!” 

Suddenly, Jack paled. His expression changed from frustration to dawning comprehension to absolute HORROR. “...oh, Jaysus Chroist.” 

“What? What is it?” Mark could feel a chill run down his spine. Seeing Jack look like that instantly got his nerves jumping. 

“Mark… ya know how they said they didn’t need ya anymore?” 

“Yyyes?” 

“What if…” He swallowed. “What if they’re gonna hunt us down?” 

“Oh. Oh, God.” 

Mark’s heart practically stopped as he realized the implications. Winged humanoids with superhuman strength tearing down the walls of the apartment, snatching him and Jack, breaking his wings, holding them high above the LA cityscape with no chance of rescue… 

“M-Mark?” 

The trance broke. His thoughts snapped to the present. “Y-yeah?” 

“We hafta git outta here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LOOKS LIKE IT'S TIME TO START ANOTHER FIC WHOO HA  
> I don't have the sheer **determination** I possessed a few days ago, so expect slower updates out of this one. Don't worry, that means it'll be that much more satisfying every time I post!


	2. Working Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark and Jack pack their bags.

“You're resigning?” 

His boss’s disappointed tone was painfully obvious to Mark, and he took a moment to wince before continuing. 

“I have to, Mr. Kjellberg. I'm moving soon. I-I know it's sudden-” 

“Moving? Where?” 

He shot a look to Jack across the living room, who gave him a hopeless shrug. 

“U-uh… Ohio. Family emergency. I've gotta be there for them. You know?” 

“I understand. I hate to see you go, Mark. You were a great engineer. We're going to miss you.” 

“Yeah.” Despite himself, Mark could feel tears welling up. He hated goodbyes, especially to people he was good friends with. Felix had always been a kind and friendly boss. He was a natural leader and a wonderful person in general. 

“Hey, don't forget to drop by on the way to wherever. You need to clean out your desk.” 

“Oh, heh. Yeah.” 

“And Mark?” 

“Y-yes?” 

“Whatever you're doing, wherever you're going… Stay strong, okay?” 

He swallowed. “I… I promise, Mr. Kjellberg.” 

Mark set down the phone. He sniffled, then wiped his nose on his sleeve. He didn't need Jack to catch him crying and then tease him about it. 

The Irishman settled back on the couch. “We gotta git packin’ ya know. We've only got so long.” 

“Yeah. Jack, what if…?” 

“What is it?” 

The thought withered somewhere between his mind and his lips. “...never mind. I'm probably just overthinking stuff…” 

His roommate raised an eyebrow. “Alright then…? It never hurts ta be over prepared, Mark. There's such a thing as bein’ properly paranoid.” 

“No, no. It was nothing.” 

\--- 

Neither of them could sleep that night. They sat on the couch, huddled together, seemingly waiting for the other one to close their eyes first. 

To try and distract themselves, they went over their game plan. Check out of the apartment complex, put packed bags in car, make sure fuel tank was full, stop by Mark's workplace to clean out his desk, and then Get Out Of Dodge. They weren't sure what would happen next, but they certainly wouldn't be going to Ohio. If those scientists had Mark's information like they said they did, they knew he had family there and would try to corner him. 

Eventually, fatigue won out over nerves, and Jack slumped against Mark. A few moments passed as he stared at the Irishman in mild surprise. He nudged him. Jack didn't react. 

It was actually kind of comfortable, the way he was leaning on him. 

Mark flushed at the sudden thought. Jack was his friend. Where the hell had that even come from? 

Deciding not to dwell on the idea, he shut his eyes. Mark was vaguely aware of his own body relaxing, then he lapsed into sleep. 

\--- 

The awkward positioning had been the subject of an even more awkward situation that morning, but the moment passed. 

They took one last look around the apartment. It had been the home of the two men for over a year now. It looked unnaturally tidy, as they'd spent most of the previous day erasing any sign that they'd lived there at all. 

Mark finally broke the silence. “Let's get downstairs.” 

“Y-yeah.” 

The American hooked his hands around the handles of both suitcases, and Jack pushed the door open. After Mark rolled through, he shut it. The click of the key in the lock gave the two a chill. It was a sense of finality. 

No turning back. 

They made their way over to the elevator with little fanfare. Every step seemed to weigh down on them. Despite the somber atmosphere, Mark could feel his pulse racing. He was anxious, scared, unsure. Bad thoughts began to surface again. The workplace in ashes, his home in Ohio torn apart, slaughtered innocents thrown aside, screams and smoke filling the air, humans with blood-soaked claws and wings stained red- 

“Mark!” 

“A-ah?!” 

Jack was staring concernedly at him. “I said th’ elevator stopped. We need ta go. Is everythin’ okay?” 

“Yeah. Yeah. Everything's fine,” he lied. Mark tugged the bags through the open elevator doors and took a right, heading for the parking garage. He caught a snatch of conversation between the desk worker, Ken, and Jack. Then he shoved the door open. 

He was greeted with a blast of cold air and an echoing BOOM as the sound of the opening door reverberated through the lot. Mark shuddered. 

Every single footstep rang out against the pavement. The bags rattled loudly behind him. He stopped to fish his keys out of his pocket. The chirp from the car in front of him was amplified by the structure of the lot. The noise shuddered in the air. Mark suppressed a shiver, and pulled open the trunk. 

He'd just packed the bags in and shut the trunk when he heard another noise. It was Jack opening the door to the garage. 

“Oy! Where are ya?” The Irishman's already loud voice was practically deafening in here. Mark grimaced. 

“Down here!” 

His call was met with echoing footsteps. Jack rounded the corner at a jogging pace. 

“Got everythin’ in?” 

“Yeah. You're driving first,” Mark told him, tossing him the keys. Jack fumbled them, dropping them on the ground. 

“Nice catch.” 

“Shut yer face.” 

After trying and failing to recover his dignity, Jack pulled open the driver's side door. Mark pulled himself into the passenger's seat. He winced as the wings hiding under his hoodie were pressed uncomfortably against the decidedly rigid car seat. 

The Irishman quickly maneuvered the vehicle out of the parking lot. Mark was grateful to be away from all that echoing. It made him jumpy. 

“Everything with Ken go okay?” 

“He wos a little surprised ta see us go, but I checked us out with no trouble.” 

“Alright. Nice.” 

Mark looked out the window. Every little landmark and shop he'd visited in LA seemed to jump out at him. It was like nostalgia had taken a physical form in the shape of a rope tied around his gut. Every time he recognized something, the cord gave his stomach a jerk, making him remember that this could be the last time he would see it. 

\--- 

It was far too soon when Jack pulled to a stop in front of the chemical plant. Mark gave him a glance, and he nodded encouragingly. 

The older man took a deep breath and opened the door. The sidewalk felt almost unsteady underneath his feet. Mark took one step, then two. 

The place was oddly quiet as he traversed the halls. Had it always been this silent? He could have sworn the roar of machinery was louder. Then he realized why. The place was empty. Nobody was around to bother him. 

He found his little office with no trouble. There were only a few things on his desk. Mark always saved his projects and designs on his laptop, so there was no issue with file transfer or erasure. He sifted through the pieces of paper left on the surface, then tucked them into his hoodie pocket. 

It wasn’t long before Mark was settled back in the car again. The two continued to drive down the road, headed for the open freeway. 

“Didn’t take ya long.” 

“Well yeah. I mean, nobody was in there.” 

Tires squealed on pavement. The car swerved, causing him to let out a yelp of surprise. “JACK! What the FUCK!” 

“Whaddaya mean NOBODY WOS IN THERE?!” the Irishman screeched. He yanked the wheel back to its original position, and the car straightened itself. The air was filled with angry honking. 

“I mean-!” Mark paused to register his words. “Oh, Jesus Christ, nobody was IN THERE!” 

“HOW LONG DID IT TAKE YA TA REALIZE THAT!” 

“SHUT UP, I WAS DISTRACTED!” 

“Jaysus fock,” Jack muttered, rubbing his free hand across his forehead. “This is bad. Ya think those scientists had somethin’ ta do with it?” 

“I’d bet money on it.” 

“Wot d’ya think happened?” 

“I don’t want to know…” Mark said quietly. His heart was racing. “But I’m scared we’re going to find out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One chapter per day. That's a good healthy pace, right? At least it's longer with more detail.


	3. My Fault

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark and Jack have a spot of misfortune.

They hadn't even lasted five hours. 

Mark and Jack had pulled into a deserted rest stop to use the bathroom, and the Irishman had left the keys in the car. When they came out, the vehicle and everything inside it, including their food and phones, were gone. 

“THIS IS JUST FUCKING GREAT!” Mark screamed, kicking the curb. “We have your wallet and that's fucking IT! I don't fucking BELIEVE THIS!” 

Jack was hunched over on the ground, trying his best not to burst into tears. “This is all my fault, Mark,” he sniffled. “I’m such a moron. I left the keys there…” 

“It's not your fault at all, Jack!” the man told him in exasperation. “It's the fault of whoever decided that leaving keys in the car equals FREE FUCKING CAR!” He slammed his foot into the curb again. “NO phones! NO food! Nobody! Fucking! AROUND!” 

The older man's anger was scaring Jack. “M-Mark… Please…” 

He took a few deep breaths. His face was a bright red. “This is… Ugh.” Mark's hands clenched and unclenched. “DAMN it.” 

The Irishman finally got to his feet again. “We'll figure somethin’ out. We can hitchhike or somethin’. It's… It's not th’ end o’ th’ world.” 

“Sure feels like it,” Mark moaned. “We're stuck in the middle of God knows where now, Jack. Where were we even planning to go?” 

“...Florida? I don't fockin’ know.” Jack sighed. “We didn't think this through very well, did we?” 

“Not really,” Mark agreed. “I guess that one's both our faults.” 

“I wos th’ one that made us do it in th’ first place.” He could feel tears stinging his eyes again. “I'm so sorry, Mark.” 

“There is NOTHING to be sorry for,” he told Jack firmly. “Come on. Maybe there's a payphone or an office we can use.” 

\--- 

Thorough examination of the rest stop revealed no such structure. Jack suggested living off the snack food in the vending machines. The way things were going, that seemed like an actually workable plan. 

“I’m not going to sit on my ass and wait for those scientists to catch us, Jackaboy,” Mark finally blurted. “Come on.” 

Jack blinked in surprise. “W-wot?” He dashed over to Mark, who was marching towards the open highway. 

“Mark, wot’re ya doin’?!” 

“Hitchhiking,” he replied, and began to trudge down the shoulder of the road. 

The Irishman stared at him openmouthed for a while, struggling to come up with some sort of reply. Finally, Mark turned to him. 

“You heard me. Come on!” 

“I-I-I… O-okay. Alright??” 

The smaller man had no choice but to follow his friend as they set off down the freeway on foot. 

\--- 

The distinct roar of an approaching car filled the air. Mark squinted in the late afternoon sunlight, then stuck his thumb out over the road. 

The vehicle whipped past them, dangerously close. Dust flew into their eyes, and Jack's hat blew off his head. “Ah fock-!” 

“PUNK-ASS FAGS!” a gruff voice called out from the window. Then the car sped away. 

Jack tried to wipe the hot desert dust out of his eyes, grimacing. He heard Mark trying to return the insult, but the best his friend could come up with was a rather flustered “O-oh YEAH! Well SCREW YOU!!” 

“Fockin’ hell,” the Irishman mumbled. He bent down and plucked his hat off the ground. The lack of shade for even a few moments made the brightness of the day just that more unbearable. They were in the middle of the fucking desert in high summer, with no water or shade to speak of. If they didn't find a place to rest soon, the two would be royally fucked. 

“...I don't think we're going to be getting a ride, Jack.” 

“H-huh?” 

He looked over. Mark was absolutely dejected. He was sweaty and coated in dirt, and looked like he was about ready to fall over. Jack was hit with the desperate urge to give him a hug. 

These jerkass people had ruined this guy's life enough. First the wings, then the lab, then the car, now this. He felt a stab of icy anger in his gut. Jack was not going to let Mark get hurt again. 

Another distant roar. In the distance, a car was shimmering. Jack grit his teeth. Then he stepped out onto the road. 

Ignoring Mark's cry and words of warning, the Irishman strode out into the middle of the street. There, he waited. 

The vehicle ground to a halt in front of him. He allowed himself a small smirk of victory. “We’re gettin’ a ride. Ya just need ta know how ta do it right.” 

Jack looked over at Mark, who was frowning. “Jack, I don't know about this…” 

“Wot? Wot is it?” He glanced up to look at the driver. 

The guy had their hood up, and their entire face was covered by a smooth white mask. The only feature on it was a simple face scribbled in black Sharpie. It was just two circles for eyes and a line almost connecting them. 

The gaze of this person chilled Jack to the bone, and he stumbled backwards over to the side of the road. His hand instinctively found Mark's. His friend jumped slightly when their fingers were intertwined. 

The person opened their passenger door. Jack braced himself for a berating. This had been a stupid idea. 

“Is there any particular reason you were standing in the middle of the road?” The voice was cool and soft. Not cold. There was a hint of amusement in it, like the person behind the mask was trying their best to hide a smile. 

"Well, uh… I-I wos… We've had trouble with hitchhikin’ fer a while… I just… Sorry.” Jack hung his head. He could feel his cheeks and ears burning. 

“You must be new to this, then. Standing in the middle of the road is a better way to get you run over than get picked up.” They chuckled. 

Jack nodded mutely, and turned to continue down the shoulder with Mark. “S-sorry ta bother ya.” 

“Hey, where are you going? Just because it was unconventional doesn't mean it didn't work.” 

“Wot?” 

He whirled around in surprise. The person in the car tilted their head curiously. 

“Come on already. Get in. Where to?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM GOING TO FIT AS MANY YOUTUBE GAMERS INTO THIS FIC AS POSSIBLE **JUST TRY AND STOP ME**


	4. Round and Round

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark and Jack get a ride or two.

The man named Cry was much quieter than Bob and Wade were. He didn't ask questions, which was nice. But the silence he gave the two hitchhikers was near deafening. 

Finally, he asked, “Where is it that you two want to go?” 

“Oh, uh…” Mark said. “Just… Get us as far away from L.A. as you can.” 

Cry gave him a small nod. “It’s not normally a good idea to be running from your troubles, you know. It'll catch up to you eventually.” 

Mark was thrown off-guard by this reply. “I… Well…” 

Jack, scrunched up against him in the backseat, managed to stutter something out. “Wot makes ye say that?” 

“The longer you run, the more trouble searches for you. The more trouble searches for you, the more collateral damage is caused.” 

Cry lapsed into silence once more, leaving the two men alone with their thoughts. An uncomfortable stillness settled over the car, and the only noise was the rumbling of the engine. 

\--- 

They'd just passed into Arizona when Cry pulled into a rest stop. He turned his masked face to his passengers. 

“I need to stop for the night. I have to rest before I can go any further. I'd be willing to keep driving you tomorrow, or you can find somebody else stopped here.” 

“I think we'll take a look around,” Mark told him. He reached over to shake a dozing Jack. 

“And Mark?” 

He froze instantly, fingertips inches from the Irishman's shoulder. 

“I get the feeling trouble isn't the only thing you're running from.” 

“Wh… What's that supposed to mean?” 

Cry tilted his head slightly. “Don't hide things from yourself, is all. You know it, and Jack knows it too.” 

He stared owlishly at the driver in absolute bemusement. After a moment of awkward tension, Cry turned to face forward and laid his head back against the headrest. 

“...o-okay then?” 

He shook Jack, who snorted. “Wh-whuzzat?” 

“Come on, you doof. Let's see if anyone in this car park is nocturnal.” 

\--- 

They were about to give up and walk back to Cry's car when another vehicle's headlights blinked on. Jack must have seen it first, because he grabbed Mark's arm. The man jerked in surprise, but let his smaller friend drag him towards the van. 

“Oy! Excuse me!” 

A head adorned with long purple hair stuck itself out the window almost immediately, surprising both men. “Oh, hello!” the woman called cheerily. “Need something?” 

“U-uh, yeah!” Mark called, slightly disoriented by her bubbliness. “We're kind of hitchhiking and-” 

“Say no more!” The girl beamed. “Climb on in. You headed east?” 

“Yes ma'am,” Jack responded. 

The brightness of this lady was infectious. Mark was lacking the apprehension he'd been feeling a moment earlier, and his friend was smiling. God, he had such a pretty smile. 

Mark admired that about him. Seeing it always made him happy too. 

The car smelled like baked goods. Mark's immediate thoughts were of vanilla cupcakes. He and Jack settled in the surprisingly comfortable backseat and put on their seatbelts. 

The woman drove out of the rest stop, heading back towards the freeway. “So do you guys have a specific destination in mind? I'm headed to this video game convention over in Texas, it's gonna be so great! I am SUCH a huge fan of games! Hey, have you guys ever played Minecraft? Gosh, it's so fun, with all the building and the creatures and everything! I could spend all day playing that game!...” 

Mark and Jack stared at each other helplessly. This was going to be a long night. 

\--- 

“Mark. Mark, wake up.” 

“Huh…?” 

He managed to crack open one eye. Jack was shaking him nervously. 

“Mark. Listen.” 

Mark groaned in protest, but he rubbed his sore neck and tried to focus. 

The driver was oddly silent, which was the first thing he noticed. Then he realized the radio had been turned up. It wasn't playing music, either. It was tuned in to some sort of radio station. 

He sat forward in confusion and managed to catch the rest of the sentence the person on the air was excitedly saying. 

“-headed east, never seen anything like it, I could swear it was people, but they were flying, it was like they had wings or something, like angels, or like that one book about the people with bird DNA, what was it called, you know, Maximum Ride, it was like a flock of bird people, you see?” 

Mark's breath caught in his throat. Every muscle in his body was clenching at once. “O-Oh God,” he choked. 

“Well, uh, thank you, Miss Leising,” a second voice said, evidently a reporter. “Well, you heard her, folks. Bird people! It's possible that it's just some sort of prank or a new drone that's being test flown-” 

Mark tore his attention away from the radio to stare at Jack in horror. His friend was gaping at him already, with wide eyes that reflected his rapidly growing panic. 

“They're headed east, Mark,” he managed to hiss. “WE'RE headed east.” 

“Is everything okay back there?” 

The voice of the driver snapped both men back to reality. “U-uh…” 

“Guys, coffee can only keep me going for so long. I'm going to have to pull over and rest for a while.” The girl's shoulders sagged, like she was sad to disappoint them. “But hey, feel free to hop out and find someone else to hitchhike with, okay?” 

The vehicle slowed, and Mark's heart sped up. What were they going to do now? 

“We hafta keep movin’,” Jack finally spoke. “We'll find someone else ta drive us. Just… Stay calm.” 

He nodded. Stay calm. 

The car ground to a halt on the shoulder of the freeway with a crunch of gravel. “So I'm just gonna-” 

Her sentence was interrupted by the sound of the door opening. Jack pushed the car door open as wide as it could go, then jumped out of the vehicle. Mark, getting the picture, unbuckled with a hasty “thanks for everything.” 

“O-oh.” The woman with the purple hair looked rather taken aback. “I- okay- bye?” 

He pushed himself out of the car and shut the door. Then Mark wrapped his hand around Jack's wrist, dug his heels into the dust, and ran for his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone know who this particular YouTuber is? (I'll give you a hint: she's sweet as Quake!)


	5. Ready Aim Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark and Jack catch another ride.

“This was not a well thought out idea.” 

“It wos yer fockin’ idea.” 

“I seem to remember YOU being the one to make the suggestion, Jack!” 

Jack didn't reply, just slumped sideways into Mark. The taller man stumbled. 

“Hey, get your own ride,” he snapped, pushing Jack off of him. 

“I would, but th’ freeway’s emptier than Charlie Brown’s mailbox.” 

He couldn't argue with that. Mark sighed. The heat combined with their exhaustion from sprinting half a mile had left both men completely drained. 

“What I wouldn’t give for a bottle of water.” 

“Some food would be nice.” 

“And a nice soft bed.” 

“I’m so fockin’ tiiiired.” 

“We need to keep moving, Jackaboy.” 

“We’ve bin walkin’ fer two hours!” He threw his hands up in the air in exasperation. “Five minutes’f rest won’t hurt!” 

“Maybe we should have stayed with the purple lady,” Mark groaned. He’d been having the thought ever since the stitch had developed in his side and hadn’t gone away. 

“Yeah. This wos not a well thought out idea.” 

Mark stopped. “Alright, five minutes. We need to keep walking though. Maybe we’ll find something, or someone will come along and we can hitchhike.” 

“I’m so tired’f hitchhiking. God, Mark, we shouldn’t have run away. This wos such a bad idea.” Jack plunked himself down on the side of the road, rubbing his eyes. “Mark, I wanna go home. I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be sorry, Jack.” He sat himself down next to his friend. “Look, you had our best interests at heart. I can’t blame you for that. You made some mistakes, that’s okay. Okay?” 

Mark wrapped his arm around Jack’s shoulder. He could feel the smaller man tense under his touch, like he’d been expecting to get hit. 

“...o-okay.” 

\--- 

“Jack, look. Someone’s coming.” 

They’d been sitting together on the roadside for half an hour. Mark didn’t realize how much time had passed until he heard the roar of an approaching car. He pulled his arm away from Jack and got to his feet, brushing off dust. 

Jack held out his arm, and Mark grasped it, yanking his friend to his feet. 

“Thanks.” 

“No problem.” Mark extended his arm over the road, thumb sticking up. 

The approaching van slowed to a halt. It was dirty but surprisingly bright-colored, painted with orange and blue. The window of the passenger side rolled down, and a huge head of frizzy hair poked out. 

“Hey guys! What’s up? Need a ride? Couldn’t help but see you sticking your thumb out.” 

“Danny, we don’t have time for this,” the driver complained. He had shoulder-length brown hair with a single blonde streak. Judging from the way he was gripping the steering wheel, it wasn’t his decision to stop. 

The first man - Danny, evidently - shook his head. “Don’t mind Arin. He’s just being a grump! We’d be glad to help you out.” 

Mark broke out into a tired smile. He already liked these two. “Yeah. Really, we’re just headed anywhere. So, wherever you’re going is fine by us.” 

“I don’t like this. What if one of them has a knife or some shit?” Arin was glaring at them suspiciously. 

“Look at them, man. They’re tired and probably hungry. We have food. Pleeease?” Danny turned to look at the driver. Arin winced. 

“Come on. Don’t give me that face. DANNY.” 

“Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeease!” 

“FINE! Fuck, if we all die, it’s your fucking fault.” 

“Yay!” Danny turned back to Mark and Jack, who were both snickering with amusement. “Okay, we’re good! Hop in the backseat, you two.” 

The two friends happily obliged. The car was rather messy on the inside, it was littered with trash and dust, with a faint scent of beer. Mark hoped neither of their new acquaintances were drunk. That would be bad. 

The van began to move forward. Danny turned in his seat to face Mark and Jack. “So what are your names? I’m Danny, and that’s Arin.” 

“We gathered,” Jack said, raising an eyebrow. “My name’s Jack, and this is Mark.” 

“Hey.” Mark waved. 

“Well, Mark and Jack, we’re headed up to New York. For some reason, Arin thought it would be a better idea to drive there from L.A.” The statement was punctuated with a grumble from the driver. 

The older man was surprised. “You live in L.A.? That’s where we came from.” 

“Oh, really?” Arin called. “What a coincidence. We’re just going to New York to see sights, visit some places, get some souvenirs. It’s probably a better idea than staying in Los Angeles after what’s been happening.” 

A knot formed in Mark’s stomach. 

“A-and… wot HAS been happenin’?” Jack asked slowly. 

“Wow, how long have you guys been out here?” Danny asked them. “We left yesterday afternoon, but stories started coming in on the news station this morning. Sightings of people with WINGS. It’s crazy. The radio has been buzzing all about it. It might even be connected to those terrorist attacks…” 

“T-terrorist attacks?!” Mark managed to wheeze out. 

“Yeah. Some apartment building got bombed. About ten casualties, and twenty-five injured. And some chemical plant was burned down. Nobody was in it at the time, at least…” 

Mark and Jack stared at each other in horror. “That’s… that’s awful,” Jack finally managed to choke out. “It’s terrible.” 

“It is! But it didn’t stop there. People have reported missing cars, ravaged rest stops, disappearing persons…” 

He felt dizzy all of a sudden. Mark’s head was spinning. “Oh.” 

Danny frowned. “Hey, man, you feeling okay?” 

“Just… give me a minute to process.” 

“Yeah. It’s a lot to take in, isn’t it? But hey, it’s not like it’s your fault.” He gave Mark a weak smile. 

Mark’s stomach gave a lurch. He felt like he was going to be sick. 

“...yeah.” 

\--- 

“HOLY SHIT!” 

The exclamation from Arin jolted Mark out of a fitful slumber. His elbow slammed into the dozing Jack, who let out a pained whine. 

“Fock! Wot’s happenin’?!” he cried blearily. 

Arin and Danny’s eyes were both locked on the rearview mirror. Three dark shapes were approaching from the air. 

“What the Hell-” 

A loud BANG issued from behind them, and the glass of the back window shattered. Everyone let out a terrified scream. 

“SOMETHING IS SHOOTING AT US HOLY SHIT WHAT THE FUCK!” Arin swerved, stomping on the gas pedal. The engine roared. Mark was jerked to the side, and Jack was thrown on top of him. He struggled to push the Irishman off him. 

More shots rang out. Mark heard the sound of bullets pinging off the metal shell of the car. Arin was screeching words in all colors of the rainbow, and Danny just stared out where the back windshield used to be, dumbstruck. 

“...they’ve got wings,” he murmured. 

“AND GUNS!” Arin hollered, yanking the wheel sharply to the left. Jack tumbled off of Mark, who was tossed into him. 

“Git off! Yer squishin’ me! Wot th’ fock is happenin’?!” 

It was hard to register what exactly was going on. Mark frantically tried to put together the pieces with the context he’d been given. 

“I… I think they’ve caught up to us.” 

Jack’s eyes, wide with fear, locked with Mark’s. He looked like he was on the verge of tears. The older man’s heart wrenched with sympathy. 

“Wh… what are we gonna do?” 

“We can’t just lie down. They’re shooting to kill. They’re going to hurt Arin and Danny, too.” 

Jack swallowed hard. “Then… what…?” 

“Jack, I-I have to do something. It’s me they’re after.” 

“...no,” he spoke, tensing. “Mark, you can’t.” 

“Stay safe, Jackaboy.” 

“Mark, NO!” He sat up as Mark unbuckled his seat belt. Danny was staring at them both in absolute confusion. 

“Danny, open the sunroof.” 

“AND MAKE US EASIER TO HIT?!” Arin yelled. “MARK, PUT ON YOUR GOD DAMN SEAT BELT AND SIT THE FUCK DOWN!” 

“Open the sunroof,” he repeated. His heart was still beating, but the adrenaline was rushing through him. He was terrified, but a new feeling was welling up inside him. These people were innocent. They weren’t going to die because of him. 

“Arin, I think we should listen.” Danny reached for the switch. 

“No!” The man slapped his friend’s hand. “Danny, he’s delirious! Do NOT let him fucking go out there!” 

Arin was interrupted by another shower of bullets. Everyone ducked, and there was the sound of glass shattering. Something was falling on Mark. He looked up. 

A man wearing a dark visor and sporting even darker wings was perched on the roof of the car, pointing a rifle through the shattered sunroof. 

“Oh, sh-” 

Beside him, Jack reacted instinctively. He reached up and grabbed the barrel of the gun. Before Mark could issue a warning, he yanked. The guy was pulled off balance. The rifle was jerked out of his hands and into Jack’s. 

Mark heard a distant thud and whipped around. The man was now on the road behind them, rapidly receding as Arin drove onwards. 

“Holy FUCK, Jack.” 

Jack looked just as surprised as Mark was. “I, uh… huh. Well, Hell yeah!" he cheered, raising his prize over his head. "Like a boss!” 

Well, the sunroof was open, in the loosest of definitions. “Can you aim with that thing?” 

“I once held a pistol in like, third grade. It wosn’t loaded, an’ it belonged to a police officer that wos visitin’ school fer career day.” 

“Right. Don’t use that, then.” Mark pushed himself into a standing position on the seat. Arin shrieked something at him, but he was already pulling himself out through the hole in the roof. 

Mark cussed as glass dug into his hands, but he managed to get onto the roof. The car had stopped swerving, but the wind and speed blew his hair around. The hood of his sweatshirt practically blew onto his head. He began to yank at the sleeves, tugging it off. The situation didn’t make it easy. 

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!” Arin shrieked from inside the van. 

“Jack, hold my hoodie!” he called. He balled up the fabric and tossed it down into the car. 

The two remaining winged people were facing him. Their wings were pumping much harder than they should have been. They clutched at their guns like they were heavy lead weights. 

Mark smirked, remembering Professor Hund’s words. He may have been the prototype, but he had an advantage over these things: they couldn’t carry weight. 

_He had an advantage over these things._ The thought banished any traces of fear from Mark’s mind. This was just another test flight. He could handle this. 

Mark’s wings snapped open, and he jumped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HAD TOO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS CHAPTER I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR SO LONG WE'RE GONNA HAVE A FUCKING **FIGHT** PUT UP YOUR FUCKING DUKES PISSBABIES COS WINGIPLIER IS IN THE HOUSE


	6. Battle Cry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark gets hurt in a scuffle.

Mark slammed into the first person before they could even think to raise their firearm. The guy dipped almost immediately, and they hit the pavement. 

The two tumbled over each other, trying to get the upper hand. Mark winced as the blacktop scraped against his arms and legs, leaving scratches and rashes. The gun skittered away from the two of them, leaving it to a battle of wits and strength. 

Mark wasn’t so sure about the former, but he was in no way lacking in the latter. After a few moments of confusion, he was pinning the guy down with a knee on his chest. The man below him raised his arms, evidently in an attempt to protect his face. 

Knocking the guy out wouldn’t do any good. Mark had to incapacitate these two somehow, so they couldn’t fly after him and his friends. Right as he was thinking this, a loud BANG split the air. 

A bullet whizzed just over him, parting his hair. Mark yelped, jumping up. “Holy shit!” 

The second man had landed, and he was holding his rifle in shaking arms. Judging from the way he was standing, the guy was still having trouble keeping it level. Maybe that was why he’d missed. 

Mark took a step forward, ready to attack, when a second shot rang out. There was a searing pain in his right wing. He’d been hit from behind. 

He let out a pained cry, dropping to his knees. God damn it. The first guy must have recovered while he was facing down the other one. Drops of scarlet began to bead the pavement as his wing throbbed. His heart was racing. His breath was short. Pain kept stabbing at the appendage, over and over and over. Something was roaring in the distance. 

He heard footsteps. Something pressed itself against his head. It was trembling, but there was no way the bullet could miss this time. 

Mark had been too rash, but he was NOT going to go out on the ground, just taking it for what it was. The roar in his head got louder. 

Then he realized that it _wasn't_ in his head. That was an engine. 

There was a squeal of tires on pavement, and then a heavy SLAM. The pressure was taken away from his head as the person holding the gun jerked in surprise. Mark wasted no time in jumping up once more. 

A fresh bolt of pain lanced through his wing, but he ignored it. He threw a blind punch, connecting with the person’s neck. They let out a choked gasp. The man crumpled surprisingly easily, and Mark wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. He raised his foot and stomped on the man’s wing. 

A loud CRACK rang out, and Mark winced. The guy began to scream. “Oh, Jesus fucking Christ,” he muttered, backing away. “Holy shit.” 

Instead of focusing on the damage he’d caused, he turned around. There was the van, parked not-so-innocently in front of the second crumped shape. It was just a heap of black feathers. No movement. 

“Aw, SHIT!” he heard Arin call. “Do you think we killed him??” 

“Who fockin’ cares! It’s kill or be killed with these assholes! Didja see wot they did ta Mark?!” 

All the doors were thrown open, and the three men came piling out of the car. Jack hit Mark first, yanking him into a tight hug. 

“Oh Jaysus, yer okay, I’m so sorry, I knew we shoulda done somethin’, lookit you, yer hurt, I’m so fockin’ sorry, Mark, Mark, I am so glad yer okay, please tell me yer okay-” 

“J-Jack,” he laughed. “I’m fine. Just… Don’t hold my wings so tight. I-I think I got shot.” 

The Irishman let go immediately and looked at him. “Ah, fock,” he mumbled, staring at Mark with wide, scared eyes. “W-wot’re we gonna do? We c-can’t exactly…” 

Arin shoved Jack aside. “Do you have any FUCKING idea how STUPID that was?!” he yelled. “God damn it, man, why didn’t you just SAY someone was after you?! We would have done something to HELP you! Instead you jump out the fucking sunroof and try to handle two people with guns but nothing but your fists?! Come on, dude!” 

Mark ducked his head, cheeks burning with embarrassment. “W-well, when you put it that way-” 

“Look at you! You’re all sorts of fucked up, we have to take you to a hospital or something-” 

“What? No!” he yelped, head snapping up. “Arin, look at this! You think I can go into a hospital room with these?” Mark spread out his wings, wincing as another wave of pain washed over him. “Agh.” 

Danny reached around Arin and put a hand on his shoulder. “We have to get you help somehow, man,” he told him. “If you keep your wing fucked up like that, there’s no way it’s going to heal right.” 

“W-well, a hospital still wouldn’t do much good,” Jack pointed out. “They’re people doctors. A wing ain’t exactly a people part.” 

Arin grudgingly nodded in agreement. “So… what? A veterinarian?” 

“No way,” Mark blurted immediately. 

“We have to do SOMETHING, Mark. Do you have any bright ideas?!” 

“Well… n-no,” he admitted. He could feel his cheeks burning in shame. 

“Then the veterinarian it is. Come on.” The man turned and began to march back towards the van. The other three stared at him in surprise, then Danny shook his head and trotted after him. 

“It’s my turn to drive, Arin.” 

“No it’s not!” 

“You’re really pissed right now. Let me drive.” 

“No! I’m fine!” 

Jack turned once more to Mark. “...well… They seem ta be pretty acceptin’ of th’ whole ‘ya got wings’ bullshit.” 

He nodded numbly, staring at the two. “Yeah. They… they do.” 

Maybe a visit to the veterinarian wouldn’t be so bad. 

\--- 

The guy that Arin and Danny had decided to take Mark to was currently sprawled on the floor in a dead faint. 

“Goddammit, dude,” Danny sighed. He poked at the guy with his foot. No response. 

“Give him a minute or two, I guess,” Arin managed to say. It was clear he was holding back laughter. 

“So… how do we know that this random vet’s office that we found in this sort of town place is actually going to be able to help us?” 

“Well, when he regains consciousness, I’m sure Doctor…” Danny paused to read the sign. “O’Donovan… will be able and willing to help you.” 

“An’ if he doesn’t, we’ll make ‘im!” Jack said cheerily. “We still have that rifle!” 

“Jack. No.” 

“Jack YES!” 

Doctor O’Donovan gave a sudden gasp and sat up, looking around blearily. “Wh… what…” 

“What’s up, doc?” Arin asked, before bursting into a fit of laughter. 

The man narrowed his eyes at him. “...okay, very funny,” he grumbled, before his eyes fell on Mark. 

“A-ah. Well. That’s… unusual.” He got to his feet. “Did, uh… something… happen?” 

Jack gave Mark a nudge, and he nodded. “Um, yeah. We, er, ran into some problems, and I got shot.” 

O’Donovan raised his eyebrows. “So… shouldn’t you be seeing some sort of hospital about this?” 

“I got shot in the wing, sir.” 

“Oh.” He licked his lips nervously. “Well. Hm. Uh… well, I’ll see what I can do, huh?” 

“Really?” Mark almost couldn’t believe his ears. “Just like that?” 

“Well, that’s my job, isn’t it?” the doctor snapped. “Come on. Follow me.” 

“Thanks, Doctor O’Donovan.” 

“How’d you-?” 

“It’s on the sign,” Danny laughed. 

“Oh. Right. Well, no need for formalities. Call me Ross.” 

“Well, then thanks, Ross.” 

“Don’t thank me yet, dude. I haven’t even examined you.” 

“Right. Sorry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> STOP QUESTIONING ALL THIS ACCEPTANCE YOU UNGRATEFUL SHIT WINGS ARE COOL EVERYONE KNOWS THAT
> 
> and i still continue to be undertale trash can you tell


	7. Who We Are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark gets patched up.

Arin and Danny had had to hit the road again after getting their van repaired, so Mark and Jack were stuck in the small town they still didn’t know the name of. Thankfully, Ross had known whatever the fuck he was doing, so Mark’s wing was safely bandaged. The bullet had only grazed him, and he would be able to use the appendage again within two days. 

Ross hadn’t released him, however, without getting the information out of him as to who had shot him. He advised a change in direction, to start heading north. The duo had thanked him for his input, completely baffled as to why the hell they hadn’t thought of that. 

The doctor had also showed Mark a different way to tuck away his wings. It caused a lot less cramping, and they laid much flatter against his back. He could almost wear a t-shirt without being detected. Jack still advised the hoodie to be safe. 

They’d been in this place for more than 24 hours now; they needed another ride. So the duo set off on the road again, this time thankfully carrying some water and food with them, courtesy of Arin and Danny. 

Mark noticed idly just how CLOSE Jack was to him. They were practically pressing together as they trudged down the highway. 

“Uh… Jack?” 

“Y-yeah?” he blurted, looking up in surprise. 

“You’re a little close there, buddy.” 

“Oh. R-right.” Jack shuffled away. “Sorry, Mark.” 

Mark watched him curiously. “...are you worried about me, Jack?” 

“W-well o’course I am!” the Irishman snapped, turning away. “Ya just got shot, yer bein’ chased by crazy people, I-I don’t want my friend gettin’ hurt!” 

“...it was unfair to take you along like this.” 

“W-wot?!” he cried indignantly, turning to face Mark again. He’d stopped in his tracks. “No, it wosn’t! I’m h-here ta HELP ya! Besides, they’re bound ta be after me too, I wos involved in that whole mess-” 

“But you didn’t HAVE to be, did you?” Mark asked him. His voice was shaking. “I-I was the one that dragged you into all this. If I’d j-just kept quiet about my wings…” 

“So yer sayin’ ya’d rather’ve lied ta me in order ta keep me safe?” Jack asked him. His voice was alarmingly cold. Mark immediately knew he’d messed up. 

“When you put it that way-” 

“We’re in this together, alright?” his friend spoke. “If I wosn’t there, ya might’ve never gotten outta that lab. If I wosn’t there, ya could’ve gotten shot down on that road. I-I-” His voice broke. Mark flinched. 

“...I’m scared fer ya, Mark,” he finally finished. 

“I’m… I’m scared for you, too, Jack.” Mark hung his head. “I’m sorry. About everything.” 

Jack let out a weak laugh. “Are ya kiddin’? Don't be SORRY. This is th’ most excitin’ shit that’s happened ta us in months.” 

“Well, exciting doesn’t necessarily mean good!” Despite himself, Mark started chuckling. “The last time something EXCITING happened was when I almost burned down the apartment trying to make brownies!” 

“No. No, it wos definitely th’ noodle incident.” They both started laughing even harder. 

Finally, Jack wiped a tear away. “But… don’t worry about me. An’... an’ I’ll try not ta worry about ya, too. We’ve got each other, right?” 

“Do you have any idea how gay that sounded?” 

“Excuse me?!” Jack shrieked, sending Mark into another fit of laughter. “I’m tryin’ ta be heartfelt here and ya insult me-” 

He was cut off by Mark pulling him into a hug, still laughing. 

“Don’t worry, you doof. I get what you’re saying.” 

\--- 

This guy’s voice was arguably even smoother than Cry’s, but he spoke as much as that one girl with the purple hair. A lot of his speech was obsessively vulgar, but hey, it was a free ride north, so why complain? 

“I mean, have you seen how hot this shit gets this time of year? Man, I would not have wanted to be you two. Roasting like a couple of chickens in the oven. Yeah, if you’d been outside any longer, some sort of fox would have come along and eaten you two, because you were cooked to fucking perfection. All you’d need was some seasoning and shit.” 

“Mm,” Jack nodded. He looked even more tired than Mark felt. Shit, he could barely even keep his eyes open. 

“Jack, do you need to sleep?” 

“Sleep is fer th’ weak,” he mumbled groggily. 

“Not getting sleep is what makes you weak,” the older man retorted. “Sleep.” 

“No. Fock yer sleep.” 

“I swear to God, Jack, if I have to put you in a chokehold and knock you out, I will.” 

“How friendly.” 

Mark shook his head as Jack finally slumped against him, and closed his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's so short. I've made up for that with some fluff. IT'S POOFY AND WARM SO HOPEFULLY IT WILL DISTRACT YOU FROM HOW LITTLE EFFORT I PUT INTO IT EH
> 
> also guess that youtuber and earn my respect


	8. Bleeding Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark and Jack suffer a crash.

Mark had barely registered the Texas state border sign when it all went to hell. 

There was a monstrous THOOM, like a thunderclap, and suddenly everything was weightless. Someone let out a scream. 

Then momentum and gravity kicked in. He was strained hard against his seatbelt as the car toppled onto its side. Something pressed hard into him, bony limbs smashed into his face. 

The driver had a smattering of blood on his face. He wasn't moving, but Mark could see the rise and fall of the pale man's chest. 

The young man in the passenger seat frantically pawed at the deployed airbags. “Oh God- Dan-” he gasped. Broken glass had cut into his arms, and there was a wild, scared look in his eye. 

“He’s alive,” Mark managed to gasp. “I can see him.” 

“W-wot happened,” choked Jack. With the car on its side, his face was practically pressing into the window that was down on the pavement. Mark was almost laying against him, suspended only by his seatbelt. 

“We crashed, I think,” Mark mumbled. His hands were shaking. He reached for the belt’s release button. They needed to get out of the car. 

Then there was a THUD. The chassis shook, jostling the passengers. Jack let out a cry. The brunette in the front seat desperately clung to his companion’s arm. 

Mark's door opened. A pair of arms wrapped around his midsection, and he felt the cold edge of a blade press into him. He yelped, but it only dug into the straps securing him in place. The man was roughly yanked out and then thrown to the pavement. 

His elbows and forearms scraped hard against the searing hot blacktop. Mark groaned. He forced himself to his knees, faintly recognizing the stinging injuries. 

Jack hit the road back first, skidding to a halt next to him. “F-fock,” he stuttered, wincing. 

“Jack!” 

“Mark…?” 

Before he could say anything more, someone grabbed him from behind. Cold metal cut into his wrists. 

“What the hell?!” He tried to break away, to kick out, to open his wings. Strong hands shoved him back to the ground. He grunted as the searing pavement burned the side of his face. His torso was lifted as something wrapped around him, pinning his arms and his wings to his back. 

A boot dug into the small of his back, pressing him even harder into the faded tarmac. “Ngh-!” 

“Did you really think you could run forever?” a cold voice asked him. Mark's heart stopped. He struggled to lift his head. 

Professor Hund stood above him, smirking. She was sporting a swollen jaw and a black eye, but she was for the most part looking rather smug. 

He'd forgotten how to breathe. His chest was burning, his hands were numb. Burning anger and icy terror and electric hatred all swirled back and forth inside of him. 

“You've been running for so long, and yet we managed to capture you with ease. How does that make you feel, Fischbach?” 

“I'm not your fucking test subject,” he hissed. His neck was getting sore from trying to maintain eye contact. 

“Those wings on your back say otherwise.” Her grin grew even wider. “You're mine, and you know it. How else could we ever catch you this simply? We snagged you on the fly. You've got to admit that was impressive.” 

Mark spat on her shoes. 

Hund sighed. “I’ve missed having you in the lab.” 

“Didn't you have plans to kill me?” 

“Well… We did before we noticed that anomaly with your strength. Despite our best efforts, Shiwu and I just haven't been able to replicate the results on our other subjects.” 

“I noticed,” he muttered. “One of your little flyboys shot me in the wing.” 

“Tsk.” She shook her head. “I told them to incapacitate if they could, kill if they had to. Obviously, I underestimated them. But I'm not taking any more chances with you.” 

The hands grabbed him by his sweatshirt, yanking him roughly to his feet. A scraping noise and series of accented curses next to him told Mark the same had been done to Jack. 

Hund turned to the armed man next to her. “Grab any others you can find in the wreck. We can't have witnesses. Dispose of the vehicle.” 

He nodded coldly and turned to march back towards the twisted, broken automobile. A desperate knot began to form in Mark's stomach. 

“You're not going to KILL them, are you? They're innocent!” he blurted. 

Hund laughed. It was unnatural, cold, high. Mark winced. 

“Oh, you're so simpleminded, Fischbach!” the woman giggled. “Why would I do something as foolish as that? I could always use more test subjects.” 

He could feel the blood drain from his cheeks. “That's even WORSE!” 

“On the contrary, my little bird.” She gave him a vicious smile. “What could be better?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S ONE AM, SCHOOL STARTS UP AGAIN TODAY, AND HERE I AM WITH **ANOTHER FUCKING CLIFFHANGER.**
> 
> But hey, on the upside, at least I'm updating again. Ths fic may be over, but the series is far from it! Tune in later for more "Of Flying and Fighting!"
> 
> Fun Fact: The titles of all the chapters share names with songs by Imagine Dragons. It, too, is a good band. Please listen to them as well. Or don't. It's up to you.


End file.
